


The Only Recipe Makoto Can’t Mess Up

by InkWitch (serkestic)



Category: Free!
Genre: Experimental Style, M/M, other charas appear in cameo, this is all about the makonagi magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serkestic/pseuds/InkWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plain cake is a vanilla-flavoured baking basic. It is generally rectangular of shape, often made with nuts and raisins. Plain cake is made at the Tachibana residence at least thrice a month in near vicinity, and once in visibility, of Tachibana Makoto, so is proved to be incapable of accidental arson. The internet advises low-heated ovens. Decide to delegate all oven tasks to good friend and fellow virgin sacrifice, Hazuki Nagisa. Quickly shake ominous but strangely reassuring thoughts of demonic deals out of head. Demons don’t promise safety anyhow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Recipe Makoto Can’t Mess Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Only Recipe For Lasagna You'll Ever Need](https://archiveofourown.org/works/182104) by [urbanAnchorite (t_ZM)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_ZM/pseuds/urbanAnchorite). 



> I'm claiming artistic liberty in increasing Makoto's wimp factor by over 9000. I'm also in mind of shooting myself repeatedly for choosing to do this during exam week. However, since I had tons of fun, I will tell mind to shut the eff up and smell the sunshine i.e. the magic of MakoNagi.  
>  **Happy late Valentine's, Adi!**

Plain cake is a vanilla-flavoured baking basic. It is generally rectangular of shape, often made with nuts and raisins. Plain cake is made at the Tachibana residence at least thrice a month in near vicinity, and once in visibility, of Tachibana Makoto, so is proved to be incapable of accidental arson. The internet advises low-heated ovens. Decide to delegate all oven tasks to good friend and fellow virgin sacrifice, Hazuki Nagisa. Quickly shake ominous but strangely reassuring thoughts of demonic deals out of head. Demons don’t promise safety anyhow.

Feel hope when Haru offers to supervise the promised baking adventure. Let feelings of relief settle into resigned despair as self-victimizing kōhai turns down offer in indignance, with proclamation of, “Mako-chan and I will be fine!”

On an appropriate weekend, empty house of potential audience to your demise – steel resolve to plaintive pleas from siblings and discreet smirks from fathers and repeat faithfully, “Have fun at the park! Bye now! Goodbye! By–” Steel spine at unavoidable prospect of being in the kitchen with no means of escape; the full packet includes one incessantly eager and sorrowfully oblivious optimist. You have been in the kitchen before. You’ll be fine. You’ll avoid using knives and… fire, and no one will get hurt and the house will not burn down, haha, Haru’s such a kidder, you’ll be fine you’ll be _fin_ – Flinch at enthusiastic ringing of doorbell interrupting psych-up session. Marvel at Nagisa’s almost supernatural punctuality. Narrow eyes as memory of frequent last minute rushing and exclamations of, “Sorry Mako-chan, got caught up, let’s start practice!” is dredged up. Lose all previous memory in fresh wave of anxiety as co-chef dons apron decisively. Consider calling Haru for last goodbyes. Consider sneaking in pleas for help. Resign self to fate’s design while fate’s tool forces apron on you. You’ll be fine. It will be fine.

Fail to convince self.

Begin.

 

* * *

 

 

Pour two (2) cups of oil into large mixing bowl with surgical precision. Tip elbow too far; pour a bit more. Debate whether that should harm the cake much or if you should attempt pouring the extra oil out. Have no confidence in your surgical precision skills. Lose focus as fellow pâtissier decants four (4) cups of sugar into mixing bowl. Ponder sous chef’s airy assurance about sugar amount being more than enough. Agree that the more part is true, anyways. Panic slightly at mixing spoon in hand. Mix oil and sugar well. Overshoot vigor and spill gooey liquid all over self and co-pâtissier. Watch in embarrassment. Flush at sight of young dessert chef licking oily sugar off fingers slowly. Pretend to look at bowl. Fail at flippancy.

Allow co-chef to take over mixing of the wet stuff to save face over own incompetence. Think about how smooth mixture looks already, wow, does Nagisa have practice? Ask as much. Marvel at tense strength of kōhai’s forearms and refuse to accept airy disclaimer of helping sisters with baking on occasion as whole-hearted truth. Nagisa whisks like a Master Chef and that is impressive. Say as much. Be distracted by immediate announcement that vanilla flavoring needs to be added to mixture at this stage. Eagerly commandeer bottle of vanilla essence yourself. Sigh in blissful contentment over pungent delicious smell of vanilla wafting through the kitchen. Listen to query about whether one can get high off of vanilla essence fumes. Sure smells like all the good things. Be taken over by startling realization that this is _totally_ something that needs further investigation: _can_ people get high off of vanilla? Agree enthusiastically with cohort that you should definitely test the theory. Recall that you have persons obsessed with theories and possibilities on speed-dial. Send off text message. Return to task at hand.

Pose return query about possibility of dumping whole of essence into mixture to bake VANILLA CAKE instead of plain. Dubiously receive negation that that is not how baking works, Mako-chan! Ask that if cooking is chemistry as stated by underachiever, how come Nagisa more or less failed the previous testing period? Return sheepish glare with Mom-look and be satisfied when chastened smart aleck whines about chemical equations being stupid and only lab work being fun. Disagree. All you have to do with equations is memorize them whereas lab work entails acids, fires, corrosive gases and endless processes inviting fuck ups. No thanks, says you. Be delegated by peevish dessert expert to dry foods.

Dump one (1) cup of flour into second mixing bowl through sifter. Sift gently. Um. Try once more to sift gently. Observe that zero flour has been sifted. Sift helplessly. Be shoved aside by an impatient ball of energy that hurls itself in raptures of enthusiasm and determination and expertise at the sifter. Blink. Blink once more to remove flour from eyelashes. Observe whirling ball of energy now evolved into snowy flour whirlwind. Laugh helplessly. Listen to suggestion for forgetting this cooking biz and let’s just have a foodfight, Mako-chan! Fight inner urge to agree.

Succeed! Wrestle mixing bowl away from flour-covered boulanger. In process, dump all bowl content on floor and skid gracefully. Perform pratfall with certain poise. Manfully take kōhai’s hysterical laughter. Forgo manliness and execute quick kick to the shins and bring down heartless devil to your level. Miscalculate; groan under devil’s weight. Reflect that Rei is certainly right, Nagisa eats way too much dessert and is clearly –wheeze– not exercising all the calories away. Shove blond puppy-impressionist aside with gentle but firm hands.

Get to your feet. Survey damage. …Not much damage, thank god. It’s fixable at least. Pull teammate to feet and suggest that maybe you should call it a day and just go over to Haru’s for some dinner. Be assailed by passionate remonstrations about never giving up and finishing goals and something about sweet-teeth being teased enough already. Whatever that means. Metaphorically gather all confidence. Straighten that spine. Be a man. Are you not a captain? Do you not oversee the most erratic team in all of Tottori? Take initiative and repeat all procedures for the dry mix.

Succeed once again! Observe that sifting is not that hard if you do not shake too wildly. Add two (2) teaspoons of baking powder through sifter. Re-sift. Sift some more. Kinda like sifting. Be disappointed when fellow baker states that no more sifting is required. Ask hopefully if there are not more things to sift. Receive negative answer; sulk.

Get over petulance in wonder over kōhai’s breaking of six (6) eggs into perfect, intact yolks in wet mixture. Marvel over whisking. Nagisa in element is a curious Nagisa indeed. Be disquieted at happy smile on teammate’s face. Muse when the last time you saw Nagisa be genuinely comfortable and happy and not stressed. Be startled to realize it has been a while. Feel sorrow at the fact.

Get startled out of thoughts by object of thoughts. Hastily assure that you were thinking nothing, nothing of importance! Pick over your words. Venture tentatively that you haven’t had this much fun in a long while, thanks for taking the time to do this, Nagisa. Meet startled eyes; note rushing tide of color with satisfaction. Wince at volume of ah! Ahhhh! I’m having a lot of fun too Mako-chan!! It’s a lot of fun baking with you, so don’t um, you don’t have to ah, this is great! Anyways–

Follow flurry of instructions and make well in middle of dry ingredients. Watch with bated breath as wet mixture is poured into well and folded in. Preheat oven to 350°F. Correction: watch baker comrade preheat oven to 350°F.

Regard spatula in your hand dubiously and settle into warrior stance. Be poked in the side by a well-meaning goblin! Take his ‘will you just _relax_ Mako-chan!’ to heart and chill the fuck out. You just sifted like a cordon bleu chef, man! You can do this. You have it in the bag.

Beat gently. When batter fails to respond and stays distinctly separate dry and wet ingredients, beat harder. Beating has a rhythm to it, like the thump of bass in a club when it syncs to your heart rate. Get into a rhythm. Start absent-mindedly nodding and contemplate that maybe you could’ve handled that whisking stuff. Think dimly that Nagisa’s smile is very dazzling.

Butter one 9-inch-round cake pan and line the bottom with parchment paper. Frown at paper not settling properly. Do not take Nagisa’s assertion that this is how it should be. You have just invested an hour or something in this extremely crucial task of making one of your favourite sweet things and you are going to do this right, dammit! Feel cocky. Ignore friend’s bemused smile and press paper into sides of pan with fingertips in attempt to smooth it down. Fail. Press again. Fail again. Pout because number of failures is now even with number of successes. Be distracted by phone signaling the receiving of a new text message; be further distracted by Nagisa’s ‘Ah, it’s Rin-chan!’ Think that it really doesn’t have to be all that perfect, plus Nagisa said it didn’t matter anyway– Move quickly and butter the parchment, dust the pans with flour, tapping out the excess. Pour batter into pan and slide into oven. Set timer to twenty-five (25) minutes.

Rush to rescue your phone.

 

* * *

 

 

 **Rin** : What the hell are you talking about? Is this a prank? Are you actually trying to PRANK me Makoto?

 **Tachibana Makoto** : No of course not! I’m really serious! I want to know

 **Rin** : WTF you’re insane. No you can NOT get high off vanilla. That doesn’t even make sense. WTF

 **Tachibana Makoto** : oh… that’s disappointing

 **Rin** : My friends are so fucking weird

 **Tachibana Makoto** : ^u^

 

* * *

 

 

 **Rei-chan** : The state of “high” is caused by a chemical called THC (delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol). The membranes of certain nerve cells in the brain contain protein receptors that bind to THC. Once securely in place, THC kicks off a series of cellular reactions that ultimately lead to the high that users experience when they smoke marijuana. As THC enters the brain, it activates the reward system in the same way that nearly all drugs of abuse do, by stimulating brain cells to release the chemical dopamine.

 **Rei-chan** : As I have not heard of vanilla containing any such chemical or chemicals similar to THC, and a simple Google search based on important keywords proved to give zero evidence to the possibility, I have concluded that the answer to your question is: no, Nagisa-kun, you cannot. Fortunately.

 **Rei-chan** : I am extremely concerned about your question, however. Are you smoking vanilla in efforts of getting high off of it? Weren’t you supposed to bake a cake or something of the sort with Makoto-senpai today? Do I need to come fetch you in some dubious corner of town again? I must tell you, Nagisa-kun, your radar for danger is alarmingly faulty and as I cannot serve as your baby-sitter twenty-four-seven; this brings me a lot of anxiety. Are you at least with Makoto-senpai? ARE YOU ALRIGHT NAGISA-KUN

 **H. Nagisa** : I’M OKAY REI-CHAN will you stop worrying your trendy pants off!!!!! I AM at Mako-chan’s house FYI, and even more FYI, Mako-chan wanted to know too! So there (~￣▽￣)~

 **H. Nagisa** : thank you for the really gr9 and tldr answer!（　´∀｀）☆

 **Rei-chan** : You didn’t even read the whole thing, did you?

 **H. Nagisa** : EVERYTHING RELEVANT. I got the gist anyways: nope vanilla is gr8 and all but u cannot get high off it so sad-face times TENTHOUSAND MILLION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 **Rei-chan** : I regret becoming your friend sometimes. This is one of those times.

 **H. Nagisa** : haha rei-chan do not EVEN lie, you love me and I make your life SO EXCITING ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

 **Rei-chan** : I’m going to go now. Goodbye.

 **H. Nagisa** : BYE REI-CHAN and thank you again!!!!!

 **Rei-chan** : You are very welcome. :)

 

* * *

 

 

Lament in mutual disillusionment over new knowledge. Reflect that ignorance is bliss. Nod at commiseration that theory does not always have to be _real_ or _true_ , experiments sometimes prove theories untrue! Regard suggestion to try out said experiment to disprove Rin’s and Rei’s very spirit-dampening statements. Feel that this would be a very irresponsible thing to agree to… Stamp on thoughts of maybe!! Stamp on them hard!!! Thoughts are now flat and limp, though still wriggling around fitfully. Throw in some extra stamps and regard in mingled satisfaction and disappointment that thoughts are very, very dead now, there is no danger of you being stupid.

Nagisa is a bad influence.

Say so. Shake head at responding laugh and punch to waist. Watch Nagisa sigh and sprawl over kotatsu lazily, lines of his face relaxing into sleepy smiles. Wonder when Nagisa got _lines_? Sit down next to tired blanket-impressionist. Reply to ‘I’m glad we got to hang out today, Mako-chan,’ with fact statement of getting to hang out every day at school. Observe vehement shake of head. Detect hints of melancholy and deeper meaning. Wonder.

Assert that you are glad as well. Very glad. Go further with lowered voice, saying how it’s very easy to forget sometimes that it’s your last year of high-school and that things are going to be completely different very soon. Not enough time is spent appreciating each other with that knowledge in mind. Pretend to ignore Nagisa’s shaky inhale. Pretend to be intensely interested in table-top as Nagisa fists his hands on his knees.

Hear, “Hey, Mako-chan?”

Ask, “Yeah?”

Feel heartbeat escalate. Nagisa’s hair smells like candy dust. His hands are sweaty and rather sticky. Wonder whether they would taste sweet and sugary. Turn the color of a thousand setting suns at thought process and also at very… near… proximity–

Leap 200 feet in the air at the loud beeping of the oven timer. Watch dazedly as Nagisa jumps to his feet, both of your composure in wrecks on the floor, and hurries to the kitchen. Stare dazedly. Contemplate the fuck just happened? What was? Did you just? ALMOST?

Follow puzzle you can never figure out into kitchen. Behold cake.

Enquire if cake is usually a bit… droopy at first sight. Receive refutation. Take declaration that the cake is also not supposed to be gooshy and kinda grainy as a personal attack. Argue that maybe that adds to the cake’s charm!! Receive negation. Protest that the cake has a golden sheen and that should count for something! Receive a ‘that’s true!’ Be heartened. Decide that Nagisa understands how a man’s heart works very well. Cut cake.

Swallow cry of dismay at the collapse of your beautiful, wonderful masterpiece. Masterpiece resembles a pancake. A pancake that was run over by a monster truck and then stepped on by some crows. Roadkill pancake. Regard roadkill masterpiece with fellow boulanger. Exchange glances. Synchronize sighs. Then burst out into helpless laughter.

Reflect that as far as cooking goes, you’re probably never going to rise above a flat slightly burnt omelette. Reflect that the entire day spent affirming this already-known fact does not feel at all like a waste of time. Friend weak with laughter on kitchen floor feels like a great accomplishment, in fact. Friend reminds that at least the house isn’t burning. Be delighted at reminder. Friend whines that because of all that, hunger is now attacking insides with the ferocity of a Bengal tiger. Tell Nagisa that you should go out together sometime.

Dump roadkill cake in trashcan, call Haru and beg for dinner.

Serves two.


End file.
